Meddling (redux)
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: The one where Catherine De' Medici doesn't know about boundaries, Francis' guards are useless, and the new King and Queen of France have trouble looking at the Dowager Queen in the eye (which is, of course, her own fault).


Francis mouth is hot on her throat as he trails kisses down to her collarbone, his tongue tasting the salt on her skin. It's hot inside, candles burning in every corner and only adding to the sense of urgency they both feel. It's been too long. She moans softly and pulls his mouth up to hers again, while pushing the doublet off his shoulders.

"Eager, are we?" He teases her in a throaty voice that makes chills run down her spine. She giggles as she feels his even more eager hands hurriedly undoing the strings on her corset. His mouth swallows her laughter and she closes her eyes again, giving herself over to the heady, all consuming feeling. And then someone clearing their throat makes them spring apart.

"Mother!" Francis exclaims, surprised, while Mary's cheeks flame up.

Here's the thing about Catherine de'Medici: she doesn't knock. She's never had reason to.

"I apologize for the intrusion, but there's matters that require your immediate attention." She says simply, looking at them levelly while they don't really meet her eyes. "You're expected in the throne room, Cardinal Morrissey has arrived."

"I ...I thought he was supposed to be here tomorrow morning." Francis asks her, running his hand down his mussed hair.

"He decided not to rest for the night and got here early, the pious man." Catherine rolls her eyes. "Let's not make him wait, shall we?" She tells them, exiting the room as quickly as she had entered it.

Mary nails him with a look that's equal parts resignation that their duties once more have come between them, and exasperation that his mother feels so at ease barging in the privacy of their chambers.

"Turn around?" He asks, all of him looking so apologetic it brings a tiny smile to her face; it certainly isn't his fault. She does so, and his fingers tie up her corset strings as deftly as they untied them, but he is certainly less merry about it.

.:.

He's been awake for a few minutes when the sound of heels fill the room, his mother barging into their chambers shake the sleep from him completely. All of the sudden he's very aware that both him and his wife are naked beneath the sheets. The duvet is down to their waist as the air had warmed considerably, and he thanks God Mary is sleeping on her stomach beside him. Thank God she's still asleep. She's been annoyed lately by his mother's reluctance to respect their privacy; and had she been awake, she would have nailed him with a look that he'd have to have agreed to. He inches the sheet higher on her bare back as his mother walks to the foot of the bed, calling out for them far too cheerfully for the hour.

"Francis, you're awake." She says, pleased. "Mary? Mary." She calls out to his wife gently.

"She's tired, mother, let her sleep." He says, sitting up.

"Fair enough." She answers. "I guess I can at least hope for a legitimate grandchild soon." Catherine says without even blinking and Francis has no time to react because she keeps speaking. "Run along now, you. "

He, still half asleep, signals for his mother to hand him his breeches and she does so, turning around when he tries to maneuver pulling them on beneath the sheets.

"I gave birth to you, you know?"

He shakes his head and starts agreeing with Mary, he quickly finds some pants, a shirt, and his mother hands him a jacket embroidered with gold to wear.

"Who needs us this early?"

"A king's work is never done." She says, taking over the task of buttoning his jacket, while going over the details of the meeting he has in less than an hour. His mother smooths his bed hair with her hands, combing her fingers through the unruly blond curls tenderly.

"My King." She beams proudly. "Let us go then." She says flatly, serious once more, and starts for the door. She realizes he's not following when she has her hand on the door.

She looks back to call for him, but keeps quiet when she sees Francis covering Mary more and kissing her brow and then the corner of her mouth. Catherine smiles faintly, and when she exits quietly she finds her heart aches for many different reasons.

.:.

The frantic guard follows the Queen inside, trying-and failing- to stop her. The King and Queen requested not to be disturbed.

"Your majesty, I don't think-"

"Nonsense, I'm the King's mother." She says, as she barges in through the door and is faced with the shocking image of bare skin and entwined limbs on the royal bed. And thrusting.

"Oh dear!" Catherine exclaims, turning around, her hand covering her mouth. Mary screams and Francis scrambles to cover them with the sheets. "I'll wait outside then." Catherine says , swiftly walking out.

The conversation inside the room once the door closes is carried out in hushed whispers, as if the motive of their displeasure –or rather, the lack of completion of it-could walk back in at any moment. And she could.

"This is unbelievable!" Mary says, pulling a nightgown over herself, her cheeks flaming up a bright red now the shock has passed.

"I know. I told my guards-"

"Your guards are useless! They're scared of her!" She tells him under her breath. How come no one's able to keep Catherine _out_?

"Mary…"

"This is our room! Our court now, in fact." She exclaims, gathering her sweaty hair away from her face. "This can't become a habit for her."

"Perhaps she's having a hard time adjusting." Francis says as he pulls on some breeches, that do nearly nothing to hide his hardness standing up and proud.

"_She's_ the one having a hard time?" Mary asks him sarcastically, because _they _were the ones just interrupted in the middle of sex; but then an incontrollable little smile takes over her blushing face as she looks down at the problem in his pants - the situation is too comic not to laugh.

She shuts up when the door opens once more and the Dowager Queen of France strolls in as if she owns the place –which she _does not_.

"You're dressed now. Good." Catherine says. "I do apologize for the late hour but I didn't think this could wait." She continues, and Mary stands in front of Francis to spare him from the trauma of his mother watching him with his poorly concealed hardness.

Catherine goes on and on about letters they need to write and send, as soon as possible –especially after the conversation one the ladies of her "flying squad" had with a noble.

"As you realize, this is of the utmost importance."

"Of course, Catherine." Mary affirms. "We'll get to it first thing in the morning."

"Wonderful!" She says, clasping her hands. "Well," she gestures to the bed, "I'll leave you to it then." She turns around without another word for the disbelieving couple she leaves behind.

"Don't even think about it." Mary tells Francis, walking past him. After this, all they are going to do tonight is sleep.

.:.

He forges the lock himself.

A simple chain and metal plate he makes in his workshop, and then hammers into their door as an amused Mary looks on.

"I'm almost done." He tells her, trying how they fit into one another and testing how wide the chain allows for the door to be opened.

"I can see that." She says. "What I can't believe is that we had to resort to this because your mother won't understand the word privacy, and your guards are utter cowards." She giggles.

"If it fixes our problems." He shrugs. "Besides, she can be rather frightening. I learned that at a young age." He tells her.

"I wish they feared me like that." Mary muses. More than once she's wondered if it's better to be feared rather than to be loved.

"You're too kind for them to fear." Francis tells her, looking at her from his spot at the door. She furrows her brow, half serious.

"Are you sure of that?" She asks him, a teasing tone in her voice.

"That you're kind? That you have a beautiful, huge heart?" His smile makes warmth flood her chest.

"Maybe I only do when I'm with you." She tells him quietly. She'd meant it as a joke but then every single decision she's made when he was away comes back to haunt her and she wodners if it is the true. She doesn't notice Francis had walked to her until he's standing right in front of her.

"You always do, love." He says, before lowering his head and capturing her lips with his own in a tender, sweet kiss. "Now, will you be kind to me?" He asks her cheekily.

"Now?" She wonders, faking naivety and taking a step back.

"Now." Francis nods, pulling her closer by her waist and her laughter fills the air between them. He kisses her slowly, leisurely, and she savors the taste of his lips; the feel of his curls beneath her fingers.

"Wait a second." He says suddenly, pulling away.

He slips the lock into place before pushing her towards the bed.


End file.
